Page 108 of Another Love, Another Time
I want the motherfucker to see me, to see that he didn’t ruin me. It takes him a while, and I start to freak out a little bit. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this. I can just go to the cops.
As I'm getting ready to run back to my bike, the door starts to open. He doesn’t see me as he closes the door and starts jogging down the stairs, but when he gets closer, I move. He looks up and sees me standing there.
I thought he would make a run for it as soon as he saw me, but he doesn’t. It's only a split second, but he knows exactly who I am. I have probably surprised him. He probably didn’t think I’d fight back.
I move to attack, but he starts crying and apologizing. I never anticipated this reaction from him, but regardless, how dare he fucking cry?
My fists clench. I want to make him hurt the way he did me, so I begin hitting and punching him. I go straight for the balls. I kick him, and he falls to his knees. I jump on him and start pounding on his face. He’s trying to cover his face.
I’ve been at it for a while when I realize he’s not fighting back. He’s just crying and telling me he deserves this.
With his size, he could overpower me, but he’s not even trying to fight. I get off of him and take in the damage. Blood coats hisface like a mask. One of his eyes is swollen, his lip is split, and his nose is bleeding.
I look him in the eyes. “You’re not so big now, are you?” I kick him in the ass with my combat boots. He just keeps crying and telling me how sorry he is. I’m still trying to catch my breath. “Now you want to cry. You have no clue what you fucking did to me!”
His phone starts ringing, and he lets it go to voicemail. Before I can say anything, it starts ringing again.
“Do you need to get that?” I ask.
He tries to wipe the blood from his face. “I probably should. It’s my roommates, needing a ride.”
Somehow, the fight drains from me. This hasn’t made me feel any better, maybe because he didn’t fight back.
He gets up, and I step back. This might be a way to catch me off guard. He sees my cautious movement. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”
“Excuse me if I choose not to believe you.” I sneer at him.
“I’m sorry for hurting you. If you want to turn me into the cops, I’ll follow you there.” He starts crying again. “I know I don’t deserve to be here. I’ve been looking over my back for the last year, wondering when you would pop up or if the cops would come get me in school.”
I shake my head. “You have no clue what you did to me.” I feel the tears coming, but I don’t dare let them fall.
“Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, but if you would meet me somewhere—in public, of course—we can sit down. You can ask me any question. I’m not sure what you want—” Hisphone starts ringing again. He silences it and continues, “I owe you a lot more than an apology, but my friend needs a ride home, and I really don’t want him drinking and driving. I’m not sure what you want out of this. If you want to beat the shit out of me, I’ll let you. If you want me to turn myself in, I will. Let me know, and I will do it.”
I hadn’t really thought about what I wanted from this. For the past year, all I wanted to do was hurt him the way he hurt me, and it didn’t make me feel any better.
“I want answers,” I say. “You said something that night that I can’t get out of my head.”
He nods. “I have something to do in the morning, but if you want to meet somewhere public, I will have time tomorrow afternoon. We can go to the Mexican restaurant down the street.” He points in its direction.
I don’t trust him. Maybe he will bring his friends with him. “Give me your phone number, and I’ll text you 30 minutes before I want to meet you at the location.” I pull out my phone and type in the number as he tells me. I repeat it, and as I’m saving it, his phone vibrates.
“I really need to go. I’m the DD tonight. I’ll wait for you to text.” And then he takes off.
What the hell just happened? Did I just let him walk away? What if he goes to the cops?
I just beat the crap out of this guy, and now I’m meeting him tomorrow. I want answers, and I’m going to get them. If he doesn't show, I'll turn him in.
~~
After he leaves, I ride back to my hotel room, make a list of the questions I want to ask, and then go to bed. I want to get up early and follow him throughout the day to observe him.
When I wake up, I jump in the shower. After I get out, I throw on some jeans, a T-shirt, and my combat boots. I leave my hotel room and head back to his house.
I wait, sitting on my bike, until he leaves his house. I start my bike and follow him to a house on the other side of the city that has a tall fence around it. I pull up and park farther down the street, close enough that I can still see the house.
I survey my surroundings. There’s a guy sitting on the porch and drinking coffee. He doesn’t look relaxed; if anything, he has the attitude of someone on guard duty.My guyshakes hands with the person on the porch and then walks into the house.
I need to know what he’s doing here. It seems off. There’s no way I can walk up to the porch, so I walk down the street and then back down the sidewalk in front of the house, hoping I can get a glimpse of what is happening. I can’t, so I try to return to my bike. By the time I get to my bike, the guy from the porch is now standing beside it.
